#roommate suguru ...

[nanaslutt]

Okay but perv Geto is so fucking good and so fucking accurate what if he caught reader using the shower head on herself and decided he would do her one better 👀

perv geto<3 my luv

contains: fem reader, voyerism, perv!geto masturbation(r!&geto), so much dirty talk, sexual tension, praise, degradation, unprotected sex, shower sex, whipped!geto, softer ending, implied aftercare

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

“Fuuuu-mmm” you slapped a hand over your mouth to conceal your wines as the strong stream of water from the shower head hit your clit perfectly— the perfect temperature, the perfect pressure.

You had started out standing but quickly decided to make yourself as comfortable as possible on the smooth tile of the shower floor when you realized how intense the stimulation was.

Your legs were spread while you bucked your hips against the stream or water. Your body was jerking and jolting at the sensation of the water caressing just right under the hood of your clit.

You held your breath as the warm water brought you closer and closer to your high, jaw dropping and eyebrows scrunching together as you were pushed off the edge.

“Haaaa-aaah fuck-“ you whined a little too loudly. You felt your walls clench around nothing as your orgasm washed through your body, the warm steady pressure of water was working you over so well, prolonging the intense feeling as you jerked and gasped into the small room of the bathroom.

shlick shlick shlick

“Fuuuuck… cmon go again, do it again..” Geto whispered under his breath from the other side of the door.

You knew you weren’t being relatively as quiet as you know you should’ve been; having a roomate in the house; but you figured the water would drown out most of your noises.

You could not have been more wrong.

For the past five or so minutes that you had been getting up to your antics in the shower, Geto’s ear was pressed against the door, warm hand wrapped around his fist and pumping steadily while listening to your wines and curses as you got yourself off.

He heard you and Shoko talking about this new method to masturbate over the phone the other day, he didn’t mean to ease drop but.. yes he did.

The second he walked by your room and heard you repeat back to shoko, “A shower head? down there? really?” He froze in his tracks, listening to the short conversation after your question that followed.

Ever since that day, whenever you got in the shower he would follow right behind you. The moment he heard the shower come to life, his head was pressed against the thick wood door, listening for any telling signs that you were trying out this new trick you had learned.

And he is so glad he didn’t give up, night after night he spent standing at that door, shuffling his body weight between both of his feet as he waited so patiently to hear something, anything that sounded like you touching yourself, and he finally did.

He wanted to feel guilty he really did, but the vivid image he had painted of you, standing with the shower head you body used, against your clit, moaning and whining as you made yourself cum with it.. the guilt in his body was nowhere to be found.

You panted hard on the floor, squeezing your legs shut in comfort when your orgasm subsided, “holy shit,” you breathlessly whispered, amazed at how good that had felt.

You pulled your lip between your teeth, thinking. The water was still warm, so you couldn’t have been in there for too long.. a second round wouldn’t hurt.. right?

You spread your legs once more, wincing when you brought the shower head back to your clit, face scrunching as you tried to overcome the overstimulation you felt as trying to go again so soon.

You managed to push through it—though you realized you felt ten times more sensitive than before, it was proving to be harder to hold back your noises as you alternated between letting the water spray against your tight hole, and your sensitive little bud.

“Yesyesyes” Geto smiled triumphantly when he heard your noises start up again on the other side of the door after a brief pause. He started up his own hand again, stroking himself faster at the sound of your needier wines this time around.

He was picturing himself standing behind you, his cock fucking in and out of your tight hole while he held the shower head against your clit. He imagined you would protest at how it was too much, too good, to please give you a break— and of course he wouldn’t.

He would fuck into you harder, faster, he would manipulate the shower head in a way so the water was caressing your clit in circles, he pictured you curling in on yourself while you came all over him, he tried desperately to squeeze his hand in a pulsing motion to mimic what he thought your pussy would feel like when your high arrived.

He slowed down his strokes when an idea popped into his head. You could practically see a lightbulb form over him as he completely paused the strokes on his angry dick, quickly pushing his cock back into his pants and zipping them back up.

It was not unusual for the two of you to use the bathroom while the other was in the shower. The sliding shower door was one of those cloudy ones, so you could see nothing but the persons silhouette as they used the shower. The bathroom also had no lock, which Geto thought was absolutely perfect.

He rapped a quick knock onto the wood, “Coming in, gotta brush my teeth” he said as nonchalantly as he could, giving you a could seconds before he cracked the door open.

You were shocked out of your daze, slapping your legs together as the door opened, you prayed he would get his toothbrush and leave, like he usually did, but he had other plan.

“Oh- o-ok-“ You stuttered out when you saw his frame come through the door. You held your breath as you tried to ignore the throbbing between your legs, crying for you to continue the simulation before he interrupted you.

You watched his blurry frame grab his toothbrush, squeezing on the toothpaste and that’s when you froze. You watched as his head turned towards the shower, holding your breath before his deep voice spoke through the room.

“Why are you on the ground?” he questioned, making you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping that if you tried hard enough, you might disappear. “Didn’t hear you fall, you okay?” he asked, knowing damn well you weren’t on the floor because you fell.

He wasn’t expecting to see you like this, but he couldn’t deny that the thought of you having to sit down from how weak your legs were from just putting a shower head to your clit was making him dizzy.

“I-i’m okay,” you answered, praying that would be the end of his interrogation— it wasn’t.

“Didn’t answer my question.” He repeated, a smirk you couldn’t see, spreading itself across his handsome face, “Why are you on the ground if you didn’t fall?” He spoke.

You stayed silent, looking around the four walls of the small shower box you were in, trying and failing to come up with some excuse, instead feeling your mouth flap open and closed like a fish while little ‘uhh’ and ‘umms’ fell from your lips.

You watched his figure sit down on the closed toilet seat. The silence in the room was making your heart race, had he heard you moaning?

“Where’s the shower head?” he asked. You pulled your lip into your mouth and closed your eyes, forgetting that you can see the shower head peak out from the top of the shower door.

“What are you doing?” you asked quietly, at this point, you knew he knew— and you knew he was teasing you about it.

“Just wanna know where my shower head went, I spent a lot of money for that attachment you know~” He cooed, making you sigh.

“I..” you started, opening your eyes and peeking at his blurry frame through your peripheral vision, “I have it.” You finished.

“Where?” he quickly responded, smile still plastered on his face, his hand coming down slowly to subtly rub himself over his pants, using the obstruction of the blurry shower door to conceal his antics.

“Down here, with me.” You answered. “What’s it doing down there? hmm?” His deep voice resonated.

You started to feel yourself grow hot, and it wasn’t because of the temperature of the water. “I needed it.” you answered vaguely, feeling yourself throb between your legs at this interaction.

“You needed it?” he repeated, rubbing himself harder over his pants, letting out a short laugh when all you responded with was a short ‘mhm’

He watched your form move behind the glass, guessing your legs had spread open again, watching your arm move to place the shower head back between your legs.

He heard your breath hitch quietly when the water made contact with your little bud once more, “Needed it bad, huh?” he spoke again.

You tipped your head back against the shower wall, ignoring the blaring signals of what the hell are you doing this is your roomate, going off in your head. Instead you opted to move the shower head in circles, letting the water caress your pussy in the way you needed.

“Who taught you that huh?” he asked, knowing full well who the culprit was, and internally thanking her. “A-a friend.” you responded, your breath picking up as you spoke.

“Yeah? Did your friend also say it was okay to use my shower head to play with your pussy?” he asked. His vulgar and more direct words made you whimper, your cunt clenching around nothing as he continued.

“Y-you like it,” you responded, rolling your hips up into the stream of water.

This caught him off gaurd.

“Don’t t-think I haven’t noticed you outside the door whenever I s-shower ngh-“ you whine, wanting your voice to sound more like you were scolding him, but your words came out rushed and needy instead.

“You wanted m-e to do this,” you finished with a whine when the stream hit your clit a little too intensely.

“Fuck,” he laughed, reaching his hand into his pants once more to pull out his cock and stroke himself properly, “Why didn’t you say anything huh?” he asked.

“Didnt w-wanna ruin your fantasy, p-pervert.” you responded, the name making his cock twitch. “Oh I’m the pervert?” he responded, “Who was the one letting me listen to her shower? the one using my shower head to make herself cum?”

“L-listen to yourself, your just a nasty v-voyeur,” you wined, moans freely falling from your lips now at how worked up this conversation was getting you.

He felt his balls clench at your degrading words, cock still in his hand as he stood to his feet, sliding the slower door open in one swift movement and entering the shower, soaking his clothes as he dropped to his knees, gripping your chin in his free hand as he pressed your lips to his.

“Mmm! Mph-“ You whined into his mouth, feeling his arm rapidly move back and forth between you, his heavy breathing giving away his antics.

You kept the shower head on your clit as the two of you made out. He kissed you like he had been wanting to do this for years, bulling his tongue into your mouth and groaning into your cavern, the two of you swallowing each others noises.

“Sugu- Suguru, fuck-“ you moaned his name needing in between kisses, feeling yourself get pushed to the edge for the second time.

He sucked your lip into his mouth before pulling away and gripping your wrist that was controlling the shower head. “Let me fuck you,” he begged against your lips, “Let me fuck you please.” You were astonished at how quickly he was switching gears. He was so dominant just seconds ago and now he was on his knees in front of you, begging you to let him put his dick inside you.

“I’ll make you cum so much harder than this fucking thing please, let me prove it,” he rushed, his hand still jerking quickly over his cock as he sucked his lip into his mouth.

“Okay, okay ye-“ you answer, soul leaving your body when he wrapped his arms around you, yanking the both of you to your feet, he pulled you up by the underside of your thighs wrapping your legs around his waist as he pinned you against the shower wall.

You were getting whiplash as how quickly this was progressing, you gasped in anticipation as his hand grabbed ahold of his cock underneath you, you gasped when you felt it rub against your entrance.

“You can’t take it, Look at me, you can take it.” He spoke, pressing his his forehead to yours and making you keep eyes contact with him, distracting you from the sheer size of his cock that looked like it threatened to split you in half.

The two of you stared at each other with bated breathe, waiting for geto to slip his cock into your hole. The two of you gasped in tandem when he slid inside, the slide eased by the water.

“Oh fuck,” The dark haired man rolled his eyes back in his head, “So fucking tight oh my-“ He cut himself off when he bottomed out, gasping against your mouth as you wined at the stretch.

You’ve never taken anything inside you even remotely close to the girth and length of Geto’s massive cock. You were glad you came once before and your walls were more pliant, otherwise you would’ve been actually worried that he might’ve split you in two.

“Holy fuck you’re so big-“ you praised, looking down between the two of you and seeing your cunt fully pressed against his abdomen. “S-should’ve stopped being a fucking pervert and g-grew the balls to come in here and f-fuck me week ago,” you giggled.

Geto had no idea why when you spoke down to him it made his cock twitch, his balls would clench and threaten to spill his seed without even moving. Even before he got inside you when he heard the name leave your lips he had to squeeze the base of his cock to prevent himself from cumming prematurely.

“I know, you’re right,” he agreed, before he started a rough pace with his hips, fucking meanly into your cunt.

You bounced forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your nails into his back as high pitch “ah! ah! ah’s” we’re fucked out of your lungs.

“This perv fucking you better than that shower head?” he asked, smiling into the crook of your neck as his cocky pistoned in and out of your hole, his fat tip fucking straight into your gspot.

“D-ont kno-w” your words came out choppy and high pitched thanks to his rough thrusts. “You don’t know?” He repeated, his lip jutting out in a frown as he bounced your body up and down his cock with ease. “Let’s find out then,” he added.

He gripped the sides of your body, pulling you up off his cock with ease and flipping your body around, so you were back to chest with him, just like in his fantasy.

He slipped his cock back inside you, making you whine, your legs shaking and trembling under your own weight, small hands reaching out to grip onto the shower door handle to keep yourself steady.

Geto reached over and grabbed the shower head, picking it up off the ground from the tube part and pulling it up into his hands, he quickly checked the pressure and temperature against his fingers before he wrapped one large arm against your tummy, pulling you back against his chest.

He maneuvered his other hand in front of you, teasing the spray of the water against your pelvis before he spoke, “Don’t pass out on me.”

Geto placed the stream of water against your clit before resuming his brutal pace inside your pussy once more. If it wasn’t for his strong grip against your stomach, you were sure your legs would’ve given out on you.

“Fffuuuuuck-“ You wined, eyes rolling back in your head at the intense pleasure. “Fuck- You’re so much tighter when your little clit gets some attention-“ he choked, gritting his teeth at the feeling of your pussy walls constricting around his cock.

He tipped his head back, jaw dropping as he tried not to lose his own balance, he understood now why you ended up on the floor.

“Not gonna last with your squeezing me this fucking tight.” he warned, his lips coming down to suckle against your neck as the both of you were spiraling closer and closer to your impending orgasms.

“Fuck it’s you- you shi-t,” you tried to tell him, making him grin against your neck, “You fuck me better ha-aaah!” you wined, your arms leaving the shower door to dig your nails into his arm that was wrapped around your torso.

“Yeah? Am I making you feel good?” He bated, needing to hear you praise him. “So ahhn! So good Sugu! So fucking good, love your cock-“ you got cut off by the first wave of your orgasm, catching you off gaurd suddenly.

“Yeahhh cum all over my fucking cock- good fucking girl-“ your roomate praised, his thrusts becoming sloppy as your walls fought to milk him for all he was worth,

“Gonna make me cum,” he warned, gritting his teeth and rolling his eyes back when you dug your nails into his arms harder than before.

Unbeknownst to him, he was fucking you straight into overstimulation, you had just come in inch from your life and the stream of water was still steadily massaging your clit, and his mushroom tip was absolutely abusing your gspot.

“Su-“ you tried to speak, to tell him to at least move the shower head but he was out of it himself. The man was fucking you with reckless abandon, humping his dick into your tight walls on instinct, moans freely falling from his lips, his heavy balls making loud vulgar slaps against your ass-

He pulled out just before he came, making him drop the shower head and simultaneously releasing his hold on you, making you drop to your knees.

You looked up at him just in time when he came, his large hand caressed your face while his other stroked him through his orgasm, abs and balls clenching alike while warm spurts of cum covered your pretty face.

“Thank you- Thank you-“ He choked out between the waves of his orgasm, his head was tilted back, jaw slack and eyes squeezed shut at the intensity, you and never seen a more beautiful sight.

His legs were visibly shaking, fighting to keep himself standing as his fist squeezed out the remaining drops of his cum onto your face.

When he started to come down his next dropped to look at you, gasping, trying to catch his breath as he looked at the art he created on your beautiful face.

When the fuzziness started to fade out of his head he realized how uncomfortable he was, his slacks and button up shirt was half drenched, sticking to his skin uncomfortably from the water. His big hand came up to rub the back of his neck as he squatted in front of you, before bringing both hands down to your face using his large thumbs to rub his cum into your cheeks.

“I-“ He stopped himself, clearing his throat before leaving a soft peck on your lips, “Legs get you cleaned up,” he smiled, scooping you up and letting you wrap your limbs around him like a koala as he carried your wet bodies out of the shower.

[thbbie]

༄ roommate! suguru x f!reader.

suguru prefers savoury flavours over sweet ones.

that's just his preference, no deeper meaning or symbolism behind it.

and he always eats so slow. chewing carefully, mindful of every flavour and ingredient that hits his tongue. sometimes it's frustrating to match his pace, you'll never catch him scarfing his food down, never sloppy.

he enjoys it — every bite of his every meal.

suguru's likes sharing a plate with you, to save on washing extra dishes he says. sitting side by side eating together from one dish, the same dish. it's more intimate than either of you would ever admit.

you get to see him up close in those, not that it's a rarity (early morning together in your bed with his face still softened smelt sleep will always be dear to you) still though those moments are precious. the slow movement of his mouth, the way his lips look as he chews, his jaw and the skin covering the it. his hair framing his face so prettily. he's just so pretty. so refined and elegant in all his actions.

sometimes you'll ask if he ever craves something sweet, golden eyes will flit up to catch your own, that teasing customer service smile with an edge at his lips as he replies, "nope" popping the p at the end sassily "i have you after all" accompanied by a charming wink and too smug smile.

so when you come home to suguru in the kitchen with a pretty apron wrapped around his waist and all he says to you is "welcome home, you're just in time"

"just in time for what?"

just in time for what. the last coherent words you managed. splayed out on the dining table, his hands digging into the flesh of your thighs keeping them apart as he eats. sloppy and messy and eager. it's nothing like what you're used to seeing with him. not refined or composed at all, still though, suguru is painfully pretty.

you could swear this is a different man, only it's not. the silk like feel of the long inky tresses you tug on so unmistakably suguru. that velvet like voice groaning against you, this is suguru too. a hungry, insatiable side of him.

his tongue licks from the bottom of your slit till your clit in a single broad swipe. once, twice, thrice, before refocusing on your clit. lapping at it desperately. suguru circles on the little nub with his tongue, massaging little shapes onto the sensitive nerves.

you're so close. he alternates between ssucking at your swollen clit and tongue fucking you good, the muscle in his mouth moving on you fast. so.. close .

calling out for him, rigging him closer with both fists full of dark hair, you're so close. the pleasure building quickly and just as you are to come undone he pulls away — leaving you hot and needy.

suguru simply walks off. wordlessly. still clad in that apron, the lowers half of his face still slicked in you.

he pulls out a bowl out of the fridge and grabs a spoon before making his way back to a frustrated, annoyed you. cute pout on you lips and your eyebrows pulled tight in a glare but suguru isn't fazed in the slightest. pleasant smile at his lips, only humming softly in response to your sudden attitude.

given the grace and slow of his movements of him returning, one would think he's never been desperate for a thing. in his life.

you might've believed it had it not been for what you've seen, if not for the tent in his pants you see through the apron, if not for the starved look in his eyes, if not for that morning in your now shared bed.

he's so cool about all this. that's the front he's putting on at least. sitting back in the chair right in front of your body. his hands on your knees spreading your legs once again.

you watch him dip the spoon into the fluffy white content of the bowl, wiping the soft cool texture on your hip, bringing his face down to lick it off.

"suguru, what are you doing? what is th-"

a spoonful of soft fluffy cream fills your mouth cutting you off. it's good, a perfect sweetness balanced with a flavour of lemon that cuts through it. he made it. whisked at the fresh cream by hand until it turned full and fluffy. the apron makes more sense now.

standing over you, his bangs fall out from behind his ear, "m' just returning the favour roomie"

he spreads more on you. your neck and your collarbones. the dip of your breasts and the gardens peak of your nipples. he chases it with his tongue each time. the light coolness of the whipped cream followed by the feeling of his warm wet tongue on your skin.

he makes his way down, lower and lower until he's back between your legs, face to face with your twitching glistening folds. still dripping, still needy. still untouched from when he got you right on the edge just to pull away.

"so wet"

he spreads some of the whipped cream onto the hood your clit, the coolness on your heated cunt making you flinch away, though you can't get far with how suguru is holding your hips against the wooden table.

he licks it off, the cream and your wetness in a single swipe of his tongue, moaning out at the flavour — thin dark brows pinched together and his eyes closed in ecstasy. suguru doesn't get enough credit for the drama he brings to the table you think.

he dives back in suckling at you like a man starved and suddenly you can't think. mirroring his expression, brows pinched together and eyes closed in ecstasy. pretty moans spill from your lips, nails clawing at the wood of the table needing something to grip.

without so much as pulling away, his eyes trace over the lines of your face, guiding your hands to his hair. he breaks for a moment to breathe, in a low breathless voice,'issuing the command "tug" and you do.

the bridge of his nose rubbing against your folds as his tongue works like magic on your entrance. clamping your thighs around his head to keep him there, you grind your hips up into his face and oh he thinks he's in heaven.

whatever they have to offer up there will surely pale in comparison otherwise. here. clamped between you mr thighs with your hands tugging at his inky hair and your moans filling his ears, suguru will die a happy man. the happiest.

he lets you take the reins, his hands holding you by the waist as you grind up into his face, licking and sucking away at your crying entrance.

your high comes at you suddenly, pulsing through your body as your release washes over you — rendering you a twitching mess.

"sugur- shit. hah- that's enough, we're even. we're even!"

"yea? have i retuned to you the favour in full?"

you nod eagerly, fully unsure if you could even handle any more of him 'returning the favour' he's always been so generous.

suguru looks so pensive sitting their, leaning back into the chair with his thick arms crossed over his chest as if debating an essential question of philosophy or politics with a tongue filled of your flavour and chin shiny, coated in the excess of your mess.

"i'm not so sure about that roomie. we've still got tons more left." referring to the bowl still nearly filled with whipped cream. "it'd be a shame to let it all go to waste, wouldn't it? after i worked so hard to make it just for you"

the favour in question

[kythed]

roomate!geto x reader

it's 1am, and geto suguru is freezing. he's got a hot water bottle, a comforter, and two thick blankets, yet he's still shivering like a naked mole rat in midwinter.

why am i so fucking cold? geto thinks, feeling ridiculous as he rubs his legs together like a giant cricket. he wonders if he's inexplicably lost fifty pounds in the night and his body is shutting down. or maybe the apartment has been magically transported to a remote arctic wasteland.

"suguru?" the door creaks open, and geto sits up, squinting at your face, illuminated by the hallway light.

"oh, hey," he says, pulling his blankets up to his chin. "you okay?"

"yeah," you say, slipping into the room and closing the door behind you. geto reaches over and flicks on his bedside lamp. "i think our central heating switched off. it's, like, unbearable."

you look small and vulnerable in the yellow lamplight. so different from your usual put-together state. geto raises an eyebrow at your penguin-patterned pajama pants, and you flush.

"a gift from my grandma, asshole," you say, straightening your tank top. geto tries not to dwell on how thin and semi-see through it is.

"mhm," he says, flashing you what he knows is a charmingly ironic grin. he shifts under his covers. "yeah, it's cold. i honestly don't know how i'm gonna fall asleep again."

"well," you say, glancing down at your feet. you're uncharacteristically bashful. "i was thinking, maybe—and it's totally okay if you're not comfortable with this—i was wondering if i could sleep with you? just for the body heat. my room is, like, super cold and—"

"you wanna sleep with me?" geto repeats, just to see you squirm. he knows he's being a little mean. but he can afford to be, especially when he already knows exactly what his answer is.

"not like that," you're quick to say. you blush harder. "i mean, obviously. obviously i would never—"

"aw," he says with a melodramatic pout. "never ever?"

the two of you have teased each other like this before. joking that you'd get married if you were both still single by 40, bringing each other as plus-ones to various work events and telling coworkers you'd been together since high school—but somehow the teasing felt very different when you were both in various states of undress.

"maybe if you got a haircut," you say with a small smile, rubbing the chicken skin on your arms. geto feels his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. "anyway. please? can i sleep here? just for tonight."

"sure, kid," he says, pulling back the covers for you. he knows you hate it when he calls you that, but tonight you don't protest. "c'mere."

you slip in, instantly curling up against his side. geto feels his whole body thrum when your ice-cold skin presses up against his. his body automatically wraps around yours, tugging your waist closer, slipping his arm beneath your head. he's never been this close to you. it feels wrong, but it also feels natural.

"better?" he says, lips brushing the back of your neck. he feels you stiffen a little at his warm breath.

"much," you say. you pull his arm tighter around you and nestle into the curve of his body. "and just so we're clear: no funny business."

"i wouldn't dream of it," he says, voice low. you smell so good. so you. he feels something instinctive, something evolutionary in himself say this is it, isn't it? "as i've said many times before, you utterly repulse me. we could never be more than roommates."

"never ever," you say, and as you do, you bring his knuckles up to your lips and press a warm, soft kiss on them. geto bites back a gasp. he's suddenly very aware of his t-shirt and shorts being the only barriers separating his body from yours.

"get that haircut, suguru," you whisper, so soft he almost doesn't catch it. "then we'll talk."

"okay," he whispers back, then, closing his eyes, he settles into the bed, with you in his arms. slowly, slowly, his breathing falls into step with yours: inhale, exhale. inhale... exhale. (just before he drifts off, he makes a mental note to call the nearest salon tomorrow.)

[sugurusladyknightt]

➺ suguru x gn!reader

suguru's smile was broad. soft lips stretching up, wide and sweet, his whole face smiled with them; pretty plumish eyes closing in little crescents of joy and his nose scrunching up at the tip.

its not the usual polite, contained smile he wears. its not polished or neat. its genuine and boyish and so so endearing. you could never remember what you were saying or look away from him.

what on this planet would you look to? what could be a more beautiful a view? any another sight would surely pale in comparison.

suguru practically glows when he smiles. when he really smiles (the difference between the two always do glaringly obvious to you) and although he is masterfully skilled in keeping those bits of himself hidden, some always slips out; through the spaces in his fingers and his teeth — he can never conceal it in whole.

you've collected all the bits and pieces you've gotten a glimpse of, storing them safely in the depths of your heart. the little moments pulsing in your blood and echoing off each of your ribs everyday. you've made them a part of yourself you can no longer be without.

and oh when he laughs, you can feel yourself swooning . an airy sound; sometimes it's loud full booming coming from someplace deep in his chest and others — it's softer, quieter, bashful even. you could only hear if you listen for it (and oh with your trained ear, you never miss it)

blossoms of fresh flowers spawn in your throat, sweet and suffocating. spring's welcome fragrance gets to your head;

you don't know that you remember how to breathe.

[blubbduckies]

Roommate!Nanami x Unorganized!Reader head cannons

!ROMANTIC!

................................................................................................

Roommate!Nanami who never lets dishes "soak" in the sink. He religiously loads and unloads the dishwasher every night and he always refuses your help. He claims "the routine helps him relax for bed" but in reality, he noticed how soft your hands were the first time you guys met and would hate for them to get dried out from dish soap.

Roommate!Nanami who always makes extra when he cooks dinner just so you eat it. He knows how exhausted you are after work and would often skip meals.

Roommate!Nanami who always hangs up your coat and straightens your hastily kicked-off shoes (he also always places his dress shoes on the rack, never leaving them laying on the floor). He says he hates clutter but he's actually worried you'll trip over the shoes.

Roommate!Nanami who helps you build a shelf in your room after noticing how your belongings are strewn all over the floor. He also builds you a desk and an array of other furniture.

When you both have off days Roommate!Nanami would watch action movies with you on the couch in his pajamas. His hair would always be slightly tousled and messy but he doesn't mind you seeing this side of him.

Roommate!Nanami who never invades your privacy or crosses any unspoken rules (like walking around naked). He always let you initiate touch such as the time you had a horrible day at work and needed a hug. There was only one exception: after the Shibuya incident he came home limping and hurt (Shoko wrapped him up but he insisted she go treat other severely injured sorceress). You shot up in alarm but he just looked at you with teary eyes and hugged you.

While he was recovering from his injuries you refused to let him do anything. Hell, you took a few weeks off from work to care for him. The guilt he felt was soul-crushing but something warm also bubbled in his chest at how much you cared.

Every time you would do the dishes, help him blow-dry his hair, or cook him food he would always tear up a little.

Roommate!Nanami who bought you a huge ass bouquet of roses after he recovered and asked you to go on a date with him. He wasn't sure when the lines had blurred between roommates, friends, and love but he knew one thing: he cared for you in both a platonic way and would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn't do anything about it.

Note: Tysm for reading! I'm such a sucker for Nanami and the tears I cried during the Shibuya arc could fill an ocean so I'm simply denying he died.

[lilacxquartz]

Roommates | One Shot

Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader x Suguru Geto [MMF]

ABOUT: You’re late on rent again and rather than evicting you, your roommates figure out a different way to make you pay.

TAGS/THEMES: Roommates AU, threesomes, dubious consent, one shot smut, doggy style, blowjobs, sexual coercion (to keep the rent free), kissing, 18+.

Final warning for dubcon, the reader is implied into it but the consent isn’t made clear.

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

You were late on rent again.

A couple months ago you had the excuse that you lost your job so you were short on your share, last month you missed it entirely.

This month you still didn’t have anything and your bank account was running dry, finding absolutely zero luck on the search—living frugally as a result.

Satoru always collected rent in the middle of the month as he was the one who owned the unit. His friend Suguru, lived in an adjacent room to his while you took the smaller room opposite.

Living with two men had certainly been an experience, but they both for the most part kept to themselves and would never bother you, but then you lost your job and your presence became more of a nuisance than just being someone in the background of their lives.

”Again?” Satoru asked as he maintained a friendly albeit strained smile, his tone not quite a whine but you could tell he wasn’t pleased either.

“I-I’ve been trying, but it’s so difficult to find work right now,” you replied, even though that excuse was starting to get stale; it was the truth, but the truth didn’t fill your pockets and that much was a problem.

His demeanour tightened as he struggled to remain polite; you knew that money wasn’t an issue for him and he could afford the entire place alone if he had to, but at the same time you could see where he was coming from.

He wasn’t usually so serious, but he did what he had to do when he needed to. The Satoru you would usually see, so carefree and vibrant, stifled down due to your own misfortune.

Suguru in the midst of this ate breakfast in utter silence as he watched the entire thing unfold from the kitchen table. You would meet his gaze every now and then by accident as he would then try to avoid you, staying quiet as he tried to eat through his good friend doing his best not to scold you.

You mustered up the courage and swallowed away the last of your dignity once more, surrendering to asking for one final chance.

“I know that it’s a lot to ask, but can you please… please give me just a little bit more time?”

His icy blue eyes flashed over your body for a moment, his body language thawing as a new idea came to mind. Instead of going back on forth with you on the topic, he took a deep breath and removed himself from your company momentarily.

His smile grew curt, laced with unreadable intent, “One moment.”

You sat yourself down on the arm rest of the sofa, watching as Satoru went off to whisper something off to Suguru. You considered genuinely just moving back home rather than bothering him further, the other prospect of couch surfing seeming daunting.

Every now and then you’d glance back to the kitchenette from the open plan area, watching as Satoru planned something with Suguru. Their expressions were a little too casual for it to have been something serious and your stomach coiled at the possibility of mockery.

Suguru seemed hesitant about something as his dark eyes landed on you every now and then, his gaze meeting with yours and then disconnecting. Satoru continued to dispense his trademark smile, eyeing you up and down from head to toe, settling on some type of resolution.

The two men then approached you, planting an an uncertain sort of feeling in your gut—your instinct begging for you to choose flight as they both closed in.

“It’s your lucky day,” Satoru announced, his voice suddenly playful and teasing, “rent’s on the house.”

There was definitely a catch.

You stood up and took a step back, “Why…?”

He took a step forward, following you in your tracks as he cornered you.

“You’re gonna do something for us, that’s why,” he added, his words doing nothing to settle your quickly building unease.

“Do what?” you dared to ask.

“You’re a smart girl, [name],” Satoru purred, “you can figure it out, can’t you?”

You weren’t an idiot; you could put two and two together to understand exactly what it was that he was implying—rent was on the house and you weren’t a total prude, understanding that he wanted you to pay your dues with a favour instead.

You just didn’t think it would ever come to something like this. How humiliating, almost.

It was the fact that Suguru seemed to be involved too that further worsened your feelings on the issue. You were already barely into the idea of trading sex for a place to stay, but you now had the influence of two slowly approaching guys who had a different sort of idea of what to do with you.

As you pondered all of the possibilities, you found yourself so distracted that you didn’t even have time to react properly—wait.

Satoru already gave into his building curiousity with you; his wandering fingers pinched at the hem of your top, rolling up the fabric to reveal your bare stomach—your arms protested by anchoring down, but his strength relented and he pulled it off of you completely.

His cruising pursuit moved towards your shorts next, revealing the finishing piece for your bra’s matching set—how cruel it was of such fate to align on a day when you’d be wearing such a thing; both of their eyes shining with a delighted glint.

You blushed as you scrambled to cover up, your cheeks burning cherry red as your temperature turned feverish from the events that quickly unfolded.

“You look so cute when you’re all embarrassed like that,” Satoru commented as he flashed you a cheeky grin, his frosted lashes fluttering as he continued to stare at your now exposed skin.

He slipped right behind you, pulling you into his chest—his arms wrapped around your stomach, his cock pitching against his trousers, feeling his hardness pressing against your back; he wanted you so much, so soon. His lips sank as he nibbled against your neck, leaving behind rosy love bites from suckled flesh.

“Can you feel how hard you’re making me, [name]?” Satoru asked as he continued to grind—you didn’t dare reply, your voice caught in the back of your throat whenever you’d try.

Suguru moved closer at this point too, finally giving into his own thoughts within the company of your exposed form. His dark eyes brightened as he glossed his gaze over your frame, reeling his focus back onto your chest—curious hands unable to resist a feel for a second longer.

His fingertips would then trace towards your upper body, finally parking at your jaw as his fingers settled on a pinch against your chin; he wanted to keep your sights pointed towards him and him alone.

Suguru then lowered his lips to meet with yours, his tongue slowly pushing into your mouth as the wet fleshy muscle wrestled with your own to keep you subdued, pulling strands of webbing saliva back as he disconnected the kiss, just as though to take in his sight of you before going any further.

He took a step forward with intentional purpose and drive, you stepped back as he herded you, finding yourself perfectly sandwiched in between both Satoru and Suguru with absolutely zero wiggle room to spare.

It was then that Satoru once again didn’t give you any room to think as his hands brushed around your waist; greedy hands palmed around your hips before retreating to to the base of your shoulders, pushing you down to assume an entirely different position as your body listened.

Before you even had a chance to react even further, you were on your hands and knees before them both. Your knobbly joints tanking the pressure from the wooden floor, a sensation slightly painful as it rubbed you raw.

Through it, you felt some type of deeply rooted shame as you didn’t even protest, instead accepting the pursuit—you liked this, not quite knowing nor understanding why; feeling so wanted, so desired by both of them at the same time.

Satoru’s trousers fell to his knees as he too surrendered to the floor, his sweatpants gathering by your legs as moved closer in. You felt the tip of his length tease you as he prodded against your opening before sliding into you with such welcomed ease; your pussy already soaked and taking him in without a single hint of a struggle.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you, [name]?” Satoru couldn’t help but tease, “—you’re so wet for me already~!”

Your breath hitched as you once again couldn’t reply, instead eliciting a rushed gasp as he rammed the rest of his cock into your gushing heat, filling the otherwise silent room with the sounds of smacking pleasure as his rhythm quickly surrendered to something hurried, rather than taking the time to savour you.

Suguru was next; his face continuing to focus on yours as he looked down, towering himself above you. He slowly lowered himself to his knees too, succumbing to a certain type of idea that he had in mind.

“Your eyes are so pretty,” he spoke, tweezing his fingertips to turn your chin to face him once again, “can you keep looking at me?”

You obeyed as you felt pulled in by his voice, focusing your sights on his eyes as his own hands trailed elsewhere, eager to give you a taste of himself.

Suguru aligned himself with your lips, teasing his tip as he slowly pushed himself in and filled out the rest of your mouth—you took him in so well as he continued to pack his meat inside.

He moved himself further in as he bucked at your skull with his length, delighted by the noises you made as you struggled to take him in. He relented regardless as searched for your throat, his hands weaving through your hair, brushing away stray strands to keep looking at your pretty face.

Satoru at the same time continued to pound into your pussy from behind, his hips slamming against your ass, fingernails sinking into your bruised flesh. Your ass rippled as his pursuit continued, palms hitting your cheeks causing your eyes to water while you gagged on Suguru in the meanwhile.

Struggling to maintain your balance, Suguru lifted you by your arms to keep you right where he wanted you; continuing to slide his meat into your throat, finding an almost sadistic joy in how you reacted.

High pitched whines and breathy moans harmonising with their own grunting pleasure.

His demanding gaze narrowed, his lips trembling as he succumbed to a desperate chant, “eyes on me, eyes on me—“

Satoru seemed to be close to the edge of climax as his thrusting reached relentless pace, his grip against your once blank flesh now canvassed blotched watercolour markings all around your thighs, leaving behind signatures of bloodied etching from such passionate consequence.

He groaned as he half moaned your name; his hold tightening as your own cries meshed with both pleasure and pain—he drilled into you with such anticipated drive before delivering one final pump, milking himself dry into your sopping warmth, before finally pulling out, gasping and entirely spent.

It didn’t take long for Suguru to catch up next as you adhered to his wishes quite well, taking him in like such a good girl—sucking on him as your cheeks clenched, sending him to places he could only dream to go, feeling his cock hit the back of your throat as he continued to fuck your mouth the best that he could.

His release was sudden, emptying thick loads of a hot mess that pooled in your mouth, trailing against your chin as he finally pulled out—his eyes laced with utter affection.

You succumbed to the floor as Satoru pulled you closer, eager to help you recover, Suguru sat close by as he too, surrendered to creeping exhaustion.

Neither one of them could let you go, at least not yet.

“Now, wasn’t that fun, [name]?” Satoru asked as he brushed his hands along your legs, feeling tempted by a second round. “Maybe you should skip next month’s rent too?”

You didn’t reply yet again, but both your expression and flushed complexion along with your relaxed form all pointed to a definite yes—the feeling so wrong, so right, something you wouldn’t quite mind to revisit again and again.

“You should,” Suguru encouraged as he moved closer next to you, “I’d love to see more of those pretty eyes.”

As you settled into an exhausted stupor, wedged between them both, you couldn’t deny that you loved that idea.

So maybe, you shouldn’t rush in finding a job after all.

[lamemeduturfu]

Gojo's lil secret (he needs Geto badly) (can't blame him)

they had a lil discussion

[tofumiao]

If we could be young again . . .

[svthui]

Never Just Friends

Title: Never Just Friends

Synopsis: You thought your transfer to Tokyo would be quiet. Then you met them—and nothing was the same after that.

Pairing: Suguru Geto x f!Reader

Genre: Non-sorcerer jjk, friends to lovers,hurt/comfort, mutual pining, angst, romance, slice of life, slow burn, oneshot

Word count: 6.5k

Content Warnings: Emotional themes, mutual pining, Mild language, Angst with softness

You transferred from Kyoto to Tokyo for your senior year, expecting it to be lonely and uneventful. That was before you met Gojo, Shoko, and Suguru.

The three of them had been inseparable since their freshman year—an odd but magnetic trio. Still, they welcomed you without hesitation, as if you had always been part of the group. You were shy at first, unsure of where you fit in among their easy chemistry and inside jokes. But somehow, you found your rhythm.

Gojo was loud, obnoxious, and endlessly dramatic—which made your daily banter with him the highlight of most days. Shoko, with her dry wit and perpetual air of being mildly unimpressed, became your closest friend. You’d drag her to try new cafés or window-shop in trendy neighborhoods, and though she acted like she hated it, she always came along.

Suguru, though… he was different. Not unkind. Just distant. He was warm and talkative when the group was together, but whenever it was just the two of you, the atmosphere shifted. Conversations thinned into polite silence, and he’d give you one of those soft, unreadable smiles. You never quite knew what to say to him—or whether he felt the same awkwardness.

Tonight, you were all at Gojo’s house. Scratch that—mansion. The three of you never let him forget how ridiculously large his “not fancy” house was. Gojo insisted it was just a “regular place,” but with marble floors and a koi pond in the courtyard, it was hard to agree.

You were lounging in his sunken living room, half-sprawled on the enormous sectional couch with snacks scattered across the coffee table, when the conversation shifted to the future.

“I think I’m gonna be a doctor,” Shoko said casually, taking a sip of her soda.

The room fell quiet for a beat as the three of you turned to look at her.

“You? A doctor? Seriously?” Gojo blinked, then smirked. “I thought your life plan was to be a full-time stoner—ow!”

Shoko had pinched him hard in the side before he could finish his sentence.

“I do have the best grades out of all of you,” she deadpanned.

The rest of you nodded reluctantly. Gojo let out a defeated groan, flopping over the arm of the couch.

“I fear for your future patients,” Suguru said with a small smile.

Gojo nodded solemnly. “Same.”

They both earned simultaneous pinches from Shoko.

Gojo rubbed his side dramatically. “Well, you know me. I’ll just take over the family business.”

You sighed theatrically. “Must be nice being a nepo baby with generational wealth.”

“I’ve always wanted to be an artist,” Gojo said wistfully, staring out the window like he was in a movie.

“You’re terrible at drawing,” Suguru chimed in with a rare smirk.

Gojo pouted. “I like to pretend I never wanted to inherit the family empire. That deep down, my true passion was painting tortured self-portraits in a Parisian attic.”

“I hate rich people,” Shoko muttered.

“Me too,” you said, laughing along.

Then, as the laughter died down, Shoko turned to Suguru. “What about you? Got any future plans?”

Suguru leaned back in his seat, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. “I don’t know yet,” he said quietly.

It wasn’t a deflection, exactly—but it left something hanging in the air. Unspoken. You watched him for a second longer, wondering again about all the things he never said when it was just the two of you.

***

Two Weeks Until Finals

The library became your second home, though not by choice.

Finals were looming, and with every day that passed, the students at Jujutsu High seemed to spiral further into academic panic. You, Shoko, and Suguru had formed a study group out of survival. Gojo had invited himself in, naturally, with the excuse that “studying is better with friends”, which really meant “I plan to distract everyone and bring snacks no one asked for.”

You were currently four hours into a supposedly quiet study session in the library’s back corner.

“I have a question,” Gojo said, flipping his textbook upside down.

“No,” Shoko replied without looking up.

“You didn’t even let me ask it!”

“Because it’s going to be something stupid,” Suguru said calmly, scribbling notes in his elegant handwriting.

“I am hurt,” Gojo clutched his chest. “I bring joy and light to your otherwise miserable cram sessions, and this is the thanks I get?”

“You brought gummy worms and spilled soda on my notes,” you muttered, flipping another page of your review packet.

“That was an accident,” he said, not even sounding guilty. “Besides, I replaced your notes with mine! You’re welcome.”

Shoko snorted. “Your notes are just stick figures and bad metaphors.”

“Effective metaphors,” Gojo corrected. “And the stick figures were doing chemistry experiments. It was educational.”

You glanced at Suguru, who had barely reacted the entire time. He caught your eye briefly and gave you the tiniest shake of his head, as if to say don’t engage. You bit back a smile.

In the end, you got more studying done than expected—thanks mostly to Shoko threatening bodily harm and Suguru quietly bringing everyone back on track. And somehow, amidst the chaos, it all started to feel like something you’d miss when it was over.

Graduation Day

The gymnasium was packed, the air buzzing with excitement and the smell of overpriced flowers.

You adjusted your gown for the tenth time, balancing your cap and your nerves as your name inched closer to being called.

Beside you, Shoko looked bored, Gojo looked like he was about to burst into song, and Suguru—well, Suguru looked as calm and composed as always.

“Guys,” Gojo whispered dramatically, “what if I moonwalk across the stage?”

“Do it,” Shoko said immediately.

“Absolutely not,” you said, already picturing the horror.

“Imagine the legacy,” he whispered.

“I’m begging you to act normal for one day,” Suguru muttered.

Gojo sighed. “No one in this group supports my artistic vision.”

Still, when they finally called his name—“Gojo Satoru!”—he didn’t moonwalk. Instead, he strutted like he was on a Paris runway, tossing his cap in the air before even getting his diploma.

You were too busy laughing to feel nervous when your name was finally called. The cheers from your friends in the crowd made your heart swell.

It was over. High school. And yet, something in you ached—because it also felt like the beginning of something you didn’t fully understand yet.

After the ceremony and a thousand photos, you slipped away from the noise and ended up on a bench just outside the school building. The sun was setting, casting gold across the courtyard.

You weren’t alone for long.

Suguru sat beside you, still in his graduation gown, his expression unreadable.

“Escaping too?” you asked.

He gave a soft chuckle. “Needed a break from Gojo’s impromptu graduation photo shoot.”

You both laughed quietly.

There was a beat of silence. Comfortable, but charged with something unsaid.

“You excited for what’s next?” you asked, not quite sure why you felt nervous.

Suguru paused. “I think so. Kind of scary, though.”

You nodded. “Same. Everything feels… uncertain.”

Another silence. This time, he looked at you.

“You were brave, transferring here,” he said. “It’s hard to start over.”

You blinked, surprised. “I didn’t really have a choice.”

“Still,” he murmured, “you made it work. You became part of us.”

You looked at him. “Even with you pretending I don’t exist half the time?”

He smiled—genuinely, a little sheepish. “I don’t mean to. I just… don’t always know what to say.”

“I know,” you replied softly. “It’s okay.”

There was a moment—so brief you weren’t sure it was real—where he almost reached for your hand. But then—

Gojo’s voice echoed from across the courtyard.

“HEYYYYY LOSERS! GET READY TO PARTY!”

And the moment passed.

Calling it a “party” was a gross understatement.

Gojo had somehow rented out an entire rooftop venue in downtown Tokyo. There were fairy lights, a professional DJ, catering, a chocolate fountain (why?), and actual fireworks scheduled for the finale.

“I hate rich people,” Shoko said as the champagne fountain started flowing.

“Same,” you replied, for the second time in two days.

But you couldn’t lie—it was kind of magical.

Suguru found you by the balcony later that night. The music was loud and the city lights twinkled like stars below.

“You look like you’re trying to run away again,” he said, leaning on the railing beside you.

You smiled. “Just thinking.”

He was quiet for a moment. “You looked really happy earlier. During the ceremony.”

“I was,” you said honestly. “I’m happy. But I’m also…” You trailed off.

“Scared?” he finished.

You nodded.

He looked down at the city for a moment, then said, “I used to think I had to have it all figured out. That if I didn’t, I’d fall behind. But maybe it’s okay to take time.”

You looked at him, really looked at him. The way the light hit his face, the way his voice sounded when he wasn’t guarded.

“You’re different when it’s just the two of us,” you said before you could stop yourself.

He looked back at you, a little surprised. But then he smiled—soft, real.

“So are you.”

Your heart skipped.

Then he held out his hand. “Come dance with me.”

You stared. “You? Dance? Do you even know how?”

“Not a clue,” he said.

You laughed, but you took his hand.

And under the ridiculous glitter of Gojo’s fireworks and the pulse of music and summer air, you danced with Suguru Geto for the first time—awkward and unsure and quietly perfect.

For once, you didn’t feel like the new kid anymore.

You just felt like yourself.

***

The post-grad high had finally started to wear off.

The constant stream of congratulatory texts, parties, and Instagram posts had slowed to a trickle, and reality was beginning to set in—college was right around the corner.

You were back at Gojo’s place. Again. This time less party and more chill. The four of you lounged in his obscenely large backyard under a shaded pergola, sipping iced drinks like you were in some sort of coming-of-age film.

“So,” Shoko said, stretching her legs out on the lounge chair, “everyone got their final enrollment letters?”

Gojo rolled over onto his stomach and made a dramatic whining noise. “I did. Can’t believe I’m leaving you losers behind.”

“Oh god, don’t start crying again,” Shoko muttered.

You raised your brows. “Wait. Where are you going again?”

Gojo pushed his sunglasses up dramatically. “America. Columbia University. Business Management. Father dearest insisted.”

You blinked. “Columbia?”

Shoko snorted. “Of course you’d go full nepo baby route.”

“I’m expanding my global empire,” Gojo said with mock arrogance. “Besides, Tokyo’s too small for me.”

“Your ego is too big for any country,” Suguru murmured, sipping his iced coffee.

Gojo beamed. “Thank you, Suguru.”

Shoko gave a small sigh and smiled. “I got into Keio.”

You turned to her, genuinely surprised. “Keio Med? That’s like—top-tier.”

She shrugged like it was no big deal, but you saw the small flush of pride on her face. “Premed track first. Then med school. Gonna spend the next decade studying while you guys become corporate drones.”

“You’ll be the only one among us saving lives,” you said.

She raised her drink like a toast. “And you’ll all be my broke patients.”

Everyone laughed, and for a moment, it felt like things hadn’t changed. But the truth was starting to settle: your little group was splitting up. Different cities. Different paths.

Gojo lay flat on the grass, arms stretched out. “I demand a tearful airport send-off, by the way. Full drama. Slow-motion running. I expect someone to cry.”

“I’ll bring a banner that says finally,” Suguru said.

“Rude,” Gojo mumbled into the grass.

“So, what about you two?” Shoko asked, turning to you and Suguru. “Didn’t you both apply to local unis?”

You hesitated for a second, then glanced at Suguru. He was looking at you too.

“…I got into Meiji,” you said finally. “Liberal Arts department. Majoring in Comparative Culture.”

Suguru blinked. “Wait. Meiji?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. Why?”

“I’m going to Meiji too,” he said, voice full of quiet surprise. “Faculty of Letters. Philosophy track.”

Shoko looked between you two, grinning slightly. “Oho?”

Gojo sat up. “Fate is real.”

“We’re in different programs,” you said quickly. “Different majors.”

“But same building,” Suguru added. “Same department umbrella. We’ll probably end up with some overlapping electives.”

You nodded, unsure why your heart felt like it was skipping a beat.

“That’s cute,” Gojo said, smirking. “You two can go to uni together like a little couple—ow!”

Shoko had smacked the back of his head.

“I think it’s great,” she said, giving you a sideways glance. “You won’t be totally alone.”

Gojo pouted, rubbing his head. “This is what I get for being observant.”

But you barely heard him. Your eyes met Suguru’s again, and for a second, neither of you looked away.

The sun had set, and Gojo’s house had thinned out as Shoko left early and Gojo fell asleep inside with a popsicle stick still in his hand.

You and Suguru lingered in the backyard, the air cool, the lights soft and golden overhead.

“I didn’t know you were going to Meiji,” he said quietly, seated next to you on one of the wooden benches.

“I didn’t tell many people,” you replied. “It wasn’t my first choice, to be honest. But when the results came in, it just felt… right.”

He nodded slowly. “Same.”

There was a pause, thoughtful but not uncomfortable.

“I’m glad we’ll be at the same place,” you admitted softly. “Even if we don’t have all the same classes.”

Suguru turned his head slightly, looking at you. “Yeah. Me too.”

His tone was warm, deeper than usual. Less guarded.

“You think we’ll still be close?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, not the polite kind, but the real one—the one you’d only seen a handful of times. “If you let me be.”

You laughed quietly, feeling your chest warm. “I was gonna say the same to you.”

You sat there for a while in silence, just listening to the breeze move through the trees and the distant hum of Tokyo nightlife.

And for the first time, the future didn’t seem so scary.

***

Second year in University

Somewhere between 8 a.m. philosophy lectures and 2 a.m. café runs, you and Suguru Geto had become inseparable.

You weren’t in the same program—he was knee-deep in Nietzsche and Zen Buddhism while you wrote essays on post-colonial literature and media theory—but your schedules always managed to overlap. Whether it was that one shared elective on Ethics and Aesthetics, or your favorite ramen spot just off campus, you found yourselves orbiting each other more often than not.

So when your lease was about to end and his roommate was transferring abroad, it started as a joke.

“We should just live together.”

“Honestly, yeah. You’re tolerable.”

“Tolerable? I’m delightful.”

You both laughed.

But then a week later, it wasn’t a joke anymore.

It was a simple 2LDK apartment near campus, modest but cozy. A narrow hallway led into a bright living room with a tiny balcony that overlooked the street below. Your room was on the left. His was on the right. Separate. Safe.

It felt practical. You already knew each other’s habits—his love for late-night herbal tea, your addiction to music while studying. You’d survived finals week together. If you could handle that, surely this would be a breeze.

That’s what you told yourselves.

The first month was easy.

You took turns cooking (he made weirdly perfect omelets, you had a magical touch with instant noodles). You kept separate bookshelves but somehow read half of each other’s titles anyway. You fought over laundry rotation like siblings and ended most nights sitting on the couch, watching something neither of you were really paying attention to.

There were no lines to cross because neither of you thought they existed.

Until they did.

You had a bad day.

The kind that stuck to your skin, heavy and quiet. A class presentation went terribly, a professor grilled you unfairly, and to top it off, it rained—and you’d forgotten your umbrella.

You walked into the apartment drenched and miserable, hoping Suguru wasn’t home.

He was.

He looked up from his place on the couch, brows knitting. “You’re soaked.”

You shrugged. “It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t. He could tell.

Without a word, he got up, disappeared into his room, and came back with a towel. You expected him to toss it to you, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood in front of you and gently started drying your hair.

“Sit down,” he murmured.

You sat, the air between you thick and quiet.

He knelt in front of you, carefully patting your shoulders dry, then held the towel around your arms like a shield.

And suddenly, it hit you.

This wasn’t normal.

Not really.

Not for roommates. Not for friends.

You were too aware of how close he was. Of how your heart beat just a little too fast when his fingers brushed your cheek.

He looked up at you.

And for a second, you thought—maybe—

But he stood up before anything could happen.

“I’ll make tea,” he said softly, disappearing into the kitchen.

Things didn’t change overnight.

But they did change.

There were moments. Fleeting, almost clumsy moments.

Like when you caught him staring at you during breakfast and he looked away too quickly. Or when your fingers brushed on the couch and neither of you moved. Or when you walked in on him asleep at his desk, his face relaxed in a way you’d never seen before, and you had the urge to brush the hair out of his eyes.

And then there were the silences. Longer, heavier.

Not awkward—but careful.

You didn’t talk about it.

You didn’t know how.

Because the truth was, moving in had seemed easy when you thought your feelings were neutral. When you believed friendship was the only thing you shared.

But now?

Now you weren’t sure.

You still laughed. You still teased each other. You still stayed up late watching bad movies and making fun of Gojo’s dramatic Instagram stories from New York.

But beneath it all was something unsaid.

You weren’t just roommates. You weren’t just friends.

Not anymore.

It was late. The kind of quiet that only exists past midnight, when the city felt like it belonged just to the two of you.

You were on the couch again, both half-watching a movie, half-scrolling your phones.

Then Suguru said your name.

You looked up. “Yeah?”

He didn’t speak right away. Just looked at you. Really looked at you.

“What… are we?” he asked.

You froze.

He continued, voice low. “This isn’t just… normal, right? What we have?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Your throat felt tight.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly.

Suguru nodded slowly, his gaze dropping. “Yeah. Me neither.”

There was silence again. Not heavy this time, but fragile.

You reached out without thinking, your fingers brushing against his. He didn’t pull away.

But he didn’t move closer either.

“I’m scared,” you admitted quietly.

He looked at you. “Of what?”

“Of losing what we have. If we… ruin it.”

Suguru’s eyes softened. “Then let’s not rush it.”

You nodded.

He squeezed your hand gently.

And just like that, the moment passed again—but it stayed. In the way you sat a little closer afterward. In the way you looked at each other a little longer. In the way the air between you buzzed with something that wasn’t ready to be named yet.

***

It started innocently enough.

Just another quiet night in the apartment.

Suguru was in the kitchen washing mugs from your usual post-dinner tea, sleeves rolled up, hair loosely tied. You were sprawled on the couch, flipping through readings you weren’t actually reading.

He dried his hands and leaned against the counter.

“Hey,” he said casually. “Do you mind if I go to a mixer tomorrow night?”

You looked up, brows slightly furrowed. “A mixer?”

“Yeah,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “My senior from the philosophy seminar invited me. It’s kind of a bonding thing. I couldn’t really say no.”

You tilted your head slightly. “Why are you telling me this like you’re asking for permission?”

He gave a small laugh, avoiding your eyes for a second. “I guess… I just didn’t want us to have a misunderstanding.” 

You stared at him, heart thudding a little louder than it should have. “Right. So you’re just letting me know.”

“Exactly.” He smiled faintly. “Just transparency between roommates.”

Roommates.

The word hit a little harder than you expected.

You nodded slowly, forcing a small smile. “Okay. Thanks for the transparency.”

Suguru chuckled softly and disappeared into his room.

You stared at the wall for a long time after that.

Next day

You didn’t expect to see him.

You told yourself you weren’t looking.

You had just finished a group meeting and were heading back across campus when you saw him in the café courtyard near the library.

Sitting at one of the tables. Laughing.

With a girl.

She was cute—pretty, actually. Shoulder-length hair, delicate features. She leaned in when she spoke, fingers brushing his arm. Suguru didn’t pull away. He smiled at her the same soft way he smiled at you when you handed him his favorite tea on bad days.

It made your stomach twist.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, but it was long enough to feel something bitter bloom in your chest.

You turned on your heel and walked away before he could notice you.

Suguru came home around nine.

You were in your room, pretending to read, headphones in but no music playing. You heard the front door open and close, heard the rustle of his coat, the familiar click of the fridge.

Then came the knock.

“Hey,” his voice came through the door. “You good?”

“Fine,” you said, not looking up.

Another pause.

“You ate already?”

“Yeah.”

Silence.

“…Alright. Just checking.”

You didn’t answer. After a few seconds, you heard him walk away.

Not a misunderstanding, my ass.

You weren’t mean. Just… cold.

Polite. Short answers. Neutral tone.

Suguru noticed immediately.

He tried to brush it off at first. Tried to joke with you in the mornings like usual. Tried to nudge your shoulder while passing by, make you laugh.

But when you barely looked at him, when your smiles didn’t reach your eyes, he started growing quieter too.

The air in the apartment turned heavy.

Dinner went from shared to separate.

Late-night conversations disappeared.

One night, you came home to find him asleep on the couch with the TV still on. You stood there for a second, watching the way his face looked tired—like he hadn’t been sleeping well.

And it hit you again, sharp and frustrating:

You missed him.

And you hated that you missed him.

Because you didn’t have a right to, did you?

You weren’t together. You never were.

He went to a mixer. He sat with a girl. He laughed. He was free to do that. You were just roommates.

But if that was true…

Then why did it feel like something was breaking?

***

[FaceTime Call – Shoko💉🩻 Incoming…]

Suguru flopped onto his bed, hoodie halfway over his head, a cold can of coffee in hand. He stared at the ceiling for a moment before sighing and lifting his phone.

The call connected. Shoko’s face popped up, lying sideways on her futon, a sheet mask clinging to her face and her cat sprawled across her chest.

“You look like you got ghosted by God,” she said, not even saying hello.

“I think she’s mad at me,” Suguru muttered.

Shoko didn’t even blink. “Define ‘she.’”

He gave her a flat look. “You know who.”

“Ohhhh,” she hummed, sitting up slightly. “What happened?”

“That’s the problem. I don’t know.”

He cracked open the can, took a slow sip. “She’s been acting… off. Short replies. Doesn’t look at me when we’re eating. She even moved my laundry from the machine without leaving a sticky note. She always leaves sticky notes.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow. “Damn. No sticky note? That’s war.”

“I don’t get it,” Suguru said, staring down at the can in his hand. “We were fine the day before. Joking around, bickering about the dishes, she stole my hoodie again. And then… she just changed.”

Shoko paused. “Okay. What happened between then and now?”

He furrowed his brows. “I don’t know. I did go to a mixer that night. I told her about it, though. Said my senior was dragging me along.”

“You told her?” she asked, surprised.

“Yeah. I didn’t want it to seem like I was sneaking off to meet someone. I told her it was just a thing I couldn’t refuse. She didn’t say anything weird about it. Just asked why I was telling her.”

Shoko let out a slow breath. “And at the mixer, you didn’t… do anything?”

“No!” he snapped. “I mean, I talked to people. I was polite. But I didn’t flirt, I didn’t give my number. I was probably the most boring person there. And I left early.”

Shoko tilted her head, considering. “Okay, so you told her you were going. You went. You came back. And then she got cold.”

“Exactly,” he said, exasperated. “She even stopped putting wasabi on my sushi.”

“Oh wow,” Shoko said solemnly. “Yeah, that’s serious.”

Before Suguru could respond—

“Is this the weekly sad-boy hour?”

Gojo’s face suddenly appeared on the screen, squishing into Shoko’s frame with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.

Suguru blinked. “Wait—hold on—GOJO?! You're in Tokyo?!”

Gojo nodded through a mouthful of foam.

“Since when?!”

He shrugged. “Came in last night. Didn’t tell anyone. Didn’t tell my parents either—so I’m crashing here.”

He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder toward Shoko’s room. “Made myself a nest out of her clean laundry.”

“You WHAT?” Suguru exclaimed. “You didn’t even tell me?”

Gojo spit in a cup off-screen. “I didn’t tell her either. I just rang her doorbell and said ‘Surprise, homelessness!’”

“I thought he was a burglar,” Shoko muttered.

“I am a blessing,” Gojo corrected proudly.

“Hey,” Gojo grinned, “once you confess your undying love to your adorable roommate and she forgives you, the four of us can hang out again. Like old times! I’ll even wear pants this time.”

“No promises,” Shoko added under her breath.

Suguru groaned louder, dragging a hand down his face. “This is why I can’t have a proper emotional crisis. You two are feral.”

Gojo sobered slightly, pushing his sunglasses back onto his nose (indoors, at night). “But seriously. You need to talk to her. Whatever you’re afraid of, rejection, awkwardness, ruining the vibes — it’s already worse than it would be if you just said something.”

Shoko nodded. “You’re making her do all the emotional work in her head. That’s not fair.”

“She probably thinks you’re moving on or don’t care,” Gojo added. “Hell, maybe she even saw something you didn’t realize mattered.”

Suguru stared blankly at the screen. “So I confess?”

 “YES,” they both said at once.

“And if she yells?”

“She won’t,” Shoko said.

“But if she does,” Gojo grinned, “record it. I want to use it as my ringtone.”

Suguru sighed. “God. Okay. I’ll talk to her. When I figure out how.”

“Good boy,” Gojo beamed.

“Oh, and if she kicks you out after, we’ll all live together,” Shoko deadpanned.

“Absolutely not,” Suguru said.

“I call top bunk!” Gojo cheered.

[Call Ended]

***

The apartment was quiet that evening. No study music humming in the background. No Gojo screaming from a FaceTime call. Just the occasional sound of cars passing outside their window and the soft ticking of the living room clock.

Suguru stood behind the couch, hands clenched at his sides, watching you from where you sat on the floor, laptop open, legs crossed under you.

He’d told himself this was the moment.

No more almosts. No more backing out.

He cleared his throat.

You looked up. “Yeah?”

He swallowed. “Can we talk?”

A pause. The kind of pause that said you’d been waiting.

“Sure,” you said, closing your laptop slowly. “What about?”

He moved to the other side of the couch, sitting awkwardly with one arm draped over the backrest. Not too far. Not too close.

“About… us.”

Your brow lifted, cautious.

“I mean—me. And you. Or… me and how I’ve been acting. And why you’ve been mad at me.” He cringed. “This is going great.”

You said nothing, just watching him quietly.

“I told you I was going to that mixer,” he continued. “Because I didn’t want to be sneaky. I didn’t want you to hear about it from someone else and think I was hiding it.”

“But you were,” you said softly.

Suguru froze.

You hugged your knees. “You told me, sure. But you also acted like it didn’t matter. Like my opinion didn’t matter.”

He blinked, guilt settling over his chest.

“And then I saw you the next day with that girl. Laughing. Talking.” Your voice was calm, but distant. “And I just thought… right. Of course. He’s charming. He can talk to anyone. He’s not mine to be mad about.”

Suguru inhaled sharply. “She asked me where I got my hoodie. That’s all.”

You blinked. “…What?”

“She was talking about how her brother has the same hoodie. I swear. I wasn’t even flirting. I left after ten minutes. I didn’t even want to go, I just—my senior dragged me into it.”

You looked away.

“And I told you because I wanted you to know. Because your opinion does matter,” he said quickly, urgently. “I didn’t know you saw us. I didn’t know you were hurt. But if I did—God—I would’ve explained everything.”

You were silent again, lips pressed together, gaze on the coffee table.

Suguru let out a breath and leaned forward, arms on his knees.

“I like you,” he said simply. “I don’t know when it started. I just remember suddenly realizing how quiet everything felt when you weren’t around. And how easy it was to share space with you. How normal it felt to build a life together, like—like we were already something.”

Your eyes flicked up to his.

“I didn’t say anything because I thought I’d ruin it,” he confessed. “But I think I already did. So I might as well just say it now: I like you. And not just in the oh-it’d-be-cute kind of way. I like you in the I-want-to-wake-up-in-the-same-cramped-apartment-and-fight-over-the-last-coffee-pod-for-years kind of way.”

There was a beat of silence.

You stared at him, slowly processing.

“…You’re an idiot.”

He winced. “That’s fair.”

“You could’ve just said all this instead of dramatically brooding for a week.”

He cracked a small smile. “I tried. I tripped over the rug.”

You finally laughed, and the tension cracked like a shell between you.

“I was mad,” you admitted, “but mostly I was confused. I thought I was imagining it — the way you looked at me. The way you always saved the last dumpling. Or waited up even when you pretended you weren’t.”

“Wasn’t pretending,” he muttered. “Just bad at sleeping.”

“Then maybe,” you said softly, “we’re both idiots.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. A pair of emotionally stunted idiots.”

You shifted a little closer, knees brushing his. “So… what now?”

He looked at you, gently, like you were something fragile he finally had the courage to reach for.

“Now,” he said, “we figure it out. Together.”

***

The izakaya was already buzzing when you and Suguru arrived. Shoko was seated at the booth with two drinks in front of her, scrolling through her phone like she hadn’t been waiting for fifteen minutes.

“Where’s Gojo?” you asked, slipping into the seat beside her.

Shoko didn’t look up. “Bathroom.”

You blinked. “Wait. Gojo’s here?”

Suguru, slipping in beside you, coughed into his hand.

“Yeah,” Shoko said simply.

“What? He’s in Tokyo?”

Now she looked up. “You didn’t know?”

You slowly turned your head to Suguru, who looked like a kid caught cheating during a quiz.

“…You knew?”

He winced. “Technically? Yes. I mean. It came up.”

You stared. “Suguru.”

“He made me promise not to tell you!” he protested. “He said, and I quote, ‘I want to see her face when I pop out like a sexy anime jump scare.’”

You blinked in pure disbelief.

“Wait—pop out—?”

Before you could finish, Gojo materialized from behind the booth like a gremlin in sunglasses and a blue button-up.

“Did someone miss me?” he said, jazz hands and all.

You screamed. Loudly. Shoko nearly spit out her drink.

“OH MY GOD—Gojo!”

“Surprise!,” he beamed, settling in next to Shoko like he hadn’t just given you a heart attack.

“You’ve been here?!”

“Uh-huh. Crashing at Shoko’s.”

You turned to her. “You let him live with you?”

Shoko shrugged. “He brings groceries. It’s fine.”

“I do! I even learned how to separate recycling. Tokyo changed me,” Gojo said solemnly.

You pointed an accusing finger at Suguru. “You lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie,” he said, barely holding back a laugh. “I just… didn’t tell you.”

“That’s lying by omission!”

“It’s not illegal!”

Gojo wiggled his brows. “In my defense, this was way more fun.”

“I hate all of you,” you said, laughing despite yourself.

Shoko raised her glass. “Cheers to that.”

Later that night, after Gojo had successfully embarrassed everyone with a dramatic retelling of the time he got banned from karaoke (he swore it was for being “too talented”), you and Suguru stepped out for a breather. Again.

Same spot. Quiet sidewalk. The noise of the city just distant enough.

He leaned against the wall, side brushing yours.

“So,” you said, arms folded. “Everyone knew we were gonna end up together. Everyone knew Gojo was back. I’m starting to feel like I’m the problem.”

Suguru laughed softly. “You’re not.”

“You’re all bad at secrets.”

“We weren’t hiding it to be cruel,” he said, nudging your elbow. “Gojo just wanted drama. And Shoko only tolerates him because he takes out the trash.”

You snorted. “Okay. Fair.”

Then softer, “You still sure this won’t mess things up? With all of us?”

He turned to you, completely sincere.

“It’s never been messed up,” he said. “This? You and me? It’s what they’ve been rooting for since high school.”

You looked at him. “Really?”

“Shoko said we’re so compatible it’s annoying. Gojo said we’re his favorite slow burn.”

You groaned. “God.”

“I think we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

Your breath caught.

And then—unfortunately—

“ARE YOU TWO FLIRTING AGAIN?!” Gojo’s voice yelled from the window above. “GET A ROOM OR LET ME JOIN, I’M FEELING LONELY DOWN HERE.”

You and Suguru looked up, horrified. Gojo was literally hanging halfway out the second-floor window of the izakaya.

“WE HAVE TO MOVE,” you muttered.

Suguru sighed. “Yeah. New city. New identities.”

But his hand slid into yours, warm and sure.

And even with Gojo yelling above and Shoko pretending not to know either of you, it felt like the beginning of something incredibly right.

Three Years Later

The clink of glasses and hum of music buzzed beneath warm café lights. It was late evening—Tokyo’s skyline blinking lazily through the windows, and for the first time in a while, the four of you were together again.

Shoko sat back in her chair with a rare soft smile, her med school ID tucked halfway into her coat pocket, and Gojo, somehow still infuriatingly stylish despite inheriting a multi-billion yen business, was complaining about suit fabrics like it was a war crime.

“I swear, if one more tailor tells me this is ‘Italian wool,’ I’m going to have a breakdown.”

“You already had a breakdown,” Shoko deadpanned.

You laughed, shaking your head. “You are the only man who complains about tailored suits while sipping a 2,000-yen espresso.”

“Rich people problems,” Suguru muttered beside you, taking a quiet sip of his drink. His leg brushed yours under the table, gentle, familiar. Comforting.

“I’ve missed this,” you said softly, looking around the table. “Us.”

“About time we celebrated,” Shoko said, lifting her glass. “To finally being grown-ups. Somehow.”

“Debatable,” Gojo coughed.

“To surviving being grown-ups, then,” she corrected.

You all clinked glasses, laughter echoing.

Then Shoko leaned forward with a smirk. “So... when’s the wedding?”

Gojo nearly spit his drink. “Wait! Are we doing the reveal already? I thought we were going to build suspense. Like a drama.”

You blinked, feigning innocence. “What reveal?”

Shoko gestured with her eyes, at your hand, where the delicate ring shimmered faintly under the warm café lights.

“Oh,” you said, like it was nothing. “That.”

Gojo gasped. “You’re not even going to make it dramatic?”

“I wanted to mess with you a little longer,” Suguru mumbled beside you, trying not to smile.

“Wait, wait, hold on.” Gojo held up a hand. “So this whole time… you two are engaged? As in engaged engaged?”

Suguru leaned back with a rare grin. “Well. She did say yes.”

“I did,” you replied, resting your hand on his.

Shoko clinked her glass again. “Called it. Since high school.”

“You two were always so obvious,” Gojo added. “All that tension in the apartment, the ‘we’re just roommates’ phase, the slow burn agony... It was like watching a K-drama in real life.”

“I hate that you’re not wrong,” you muttered, but you were laughing.

Suguru looked at you then, fully. Eyes warm, soft, impossibly gentle in the glow of it all. You smiled back, and without a word, leaned forward to kiss him.

It wasn’t showy. It wasn’t loud. Just… real. Soft, familiar. Like something that had always been there, quietly waiting.

Gojo groaned dramatically. “Ugh, not this again. You’ve already been living together since college. You just added jewelry and joint tax benefits!”

Shoko snorted into her drink. “Can’t believe you two made domesticity look like foreplay for five years.”

Suguru sighed. “Regret coming out tonight.”

Gojo grinned. “Too late. You’re stuck with us. Legally, emotionally, and now, romantically official.”

Shoko rolled her eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“True. But also happy for them.” He smiled, tipping his glass toward you both. “Congrats, lovebirds.”

As the night wore on, stories flowed, laughter burst in waves, and you felt it again. That sense of home, right here, among them.

It took years. Misunderstandings. Silence. Growth. But in the end… you were never just friends.

[magicalmagecats]

Shout out to the cashier at hot topic for saying “this two are so… close” while bagging my satosugu shirt. I can’t believe I found another freak with satosugu brain rot out in the wild!

[nanaslutt]

on my knees begging and praying for more perv! geto🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🛐🛐🛐

Some PervyRoomate!Geto (and 1 perv Satosugu) drabbles for you :3

contains: voyeurism, stealing, fantasizing, Gojo makes an appearance, degradation, p*ssy eating, cumming untouched, restraints, masturbating, handjobs, unprotected sex, slight somno, overall creep behavior... pls be warned

note: i do not condone any of this irl :3

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Perv!Geto who stands outside your door and jerks off to the sound of you getting your brains fucked out by your latest partner. If he closes his eyes and squeezed his fist hard enough he can almost imagine he’s the one fucking you. He’s timing his thrusts with the slaps he hears on the other side of the door to immerse himself deeper into his fantasy; and when you cum- he cums all over his hand while his other covers his mouth to prevent any moans from slipping through his lip.

Perv!Geto who steals your dirty panties, shirts, shorts--anything at all from your dirty clothes hamper and holds it up to his face to smell your scent while he jerks his cock furiously with his lip pulled between his teeth. You're just in the next room over, he can hear you giggling with Shoko at something funny she said, the sound spurring him on as he imagines you're laughing at him, at how pathetic he is for stealing your clothes to jerk off. Of course, when he cums he makes sure to make a mess all over the garment before he throws it back into your hamper. Maybe one day you would go searching through your dirty clothes and find the present he left for you and teach him a lesson for being such a perv.

Perv!Geto who sucks your fingers into his mouth while you ride him because he's been waiting for so long for this moment and he needs to taste you. Your neck, lips, thighs, hands- anything. He would gag and moan around your lithe fingers when they hit the back of his throat, jolting around in his mouth from the roughness of your thrusts on his too-sensitive cock.

Perv!Geto who sits on his knees with his hands tied behind his back, his heavy neglected cock and full balls hanging freely in the air as you grip his hair from his scalp and roughly shove his face into your cunt. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, his face flushed a gorgeous crimson color as you fuck his face while degrading him, telling him how filthy and dirty he is for being such a creep to his poor unknowing roommate (you). He would cum untouched with a pathetic whine into your cunt at your mean words, as he continued to suck and flick his tongue as he brought you to orgasm.

Perv!Geto & Gojo who FaceTime late at night to talk about all the filthy things they would do to you while they jerk off together. Sometimes when you aren't home they sneak into your room and jerk each other off on your bed, working each other up as they dirty talk each other about what you would do to them if you were here. "Yeah? You like the way they stroke your cock? Huh?" Gojo would groan as he twists his hand over Geto's tip while the dark-haired man has his eyes squeezed shut, pretending its your hand. "Yeah cum inside her Gojo fuck, she wants it so badd~" Geto would whisper as Gojo came all over your nice clean pillow. The two of them constantly plotted on how they would get you in their beds.

Perv!Geto who would sneak into your room at night and jerk off to your sleeping body only clad in tiny shorts that showed half your ass and a crop top that your breasts spilled out of. He never touched you, but he would get close, seeing how far he could test the limits before his cute roomie woke up to a face full of cum. He would jerk off right over your face, his heart racing out of his chest when you stirred in your sleep, the fright making him back up as he cums hard in his hand, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood as he tried to keep himself quiet.

Perv!Geto who would offer to stand behind you on the train while you wore a skimpy outfit so you didn't have to be pressed up against some olf perv. Little did you know he had the same intentions as them. He felt himself get hard as your ass bumped back agaisnt his crotch when the train ride got bumpy. He would pray for the time when you would lose your balance and almost fall so he could grab your waist in his massive hands to steady you. Your meek 'thank you Sugu' Going straight to his cock at how oblivious you were.

Perv!Geto who offered to sleep in your room to cuddle when your relationship ended. Who was he to leave you alone when you spilled the news to him with fat tears rolling down your cheeks, that made his cock twitch in his pants. He should feel bad about taking advantage of your vulnerable state right now, but how was he supposed to when your smaller frame was pressed right up against his body and his nostrils were filled with your scent from being smothered by your sheets? He wasn't able to stop himself from humping his hips into your ass when he felt your body relax agaisnt him, your breaths evening out as you slipped into dreamland while Geto used the friction of your soft ass to reach orgasm and cum hard in his pants.

Bonus: Perv!Geto who was more than happy to fuck you to back sleep when you awoke right when he released his load into his pants. Him getting off on you calling him needy while he fucked his next load into your cunt, not being able to stop himself from thinking how he wasted a perfectly good load in his boxers when he could've just woken you up and fucked it into your cunt as well :( How was he supposed to know you wanted him as much as he wanted you? You did break up with your boyfriend for him after all.

[waiting-for-a-sunny-day]

1. “You think you’re the only one who can find a date?” Geto paused his inspection of himself to meet Gojo's gaze in the mirror. “Ah, no, sorry. You don't go on dates. You have to know the other person's name for it to count as a date.”

Behind the near black of his sunglasses, Gojo’s eyes widened with exaggerated offense.

“You can’t slut shame anymore, Suguru. It’s 2010,” Gojo teased, as he flopped back on Geto’s bed.

“I’m not slut shaming you. I’m saying you’re not in a position to act like me going on a first date is a scandal."

Gojo tipped his head backwards and leveled Geto with an over-dramatic eye roll. 

He does that to make people notice how pretty his eyes are. 

“It’s not a scandal. It’s…”

Whatever Gojo thought it was was a mystery, because he was uncharacteristically lost for words. 

Despite what Gojo might accuse him of, Geto was not a sex negative person or a prude. 

He was just madly in love with his best-friend-slash-roommate, and every time Satoru stumbled home with his clothes rumpled and his hair fingered through, Geto felt like burning Tokyo to the ground.

It was all the unhinged, unrealistic pining that led Geto to make this plan in the first place.

The Plan: Geto was going to get over his straight, no-strings-sex-only, relationship-phobic best friend.

Step One of The Plan: Find literally anyone else in the entire world that he could think about kissing without wanting to die.

- - - - Read more cut - - - -

A month earlier, he’d gone so far as to get a guy’s phone number. He’d popped into a café after a particularly foul curse he’d absorbed – hoping to wash the taste out of his mouth with tea and a pastry – and the barista had such a stark white shock of messy hair that Geto had done a doubletake to make sure Gojo wasn’t fucking around in a coffee shop on some bizarre mission objective.

The barista had been, admittedly, extremely attractive. His hair was bleached, but it suited him, and he had pleasing, well-proportioned features. Working on pure adrenaline and determination, Geto had asked him for his number. The guy had turned beet red but managed to stutter out his info to Geto.

Almost as soon as Geto left the café, though, the little nits and snags started to pop up in his mind.

Obviously, the eyes were all wrong. The shyness wasn’t right. The smile. His voice. He wasn’t tall enough, and his hands didn’t have that same graceful strength.

It was a laundry list of how fake-Satoru was emphatically not Satoru.

Geto wasn’t even all the way down the block before he deleted the barista’s info from his phone.

Now Geto was on attempt number two: a first date with a man who in absolutely no way resembled Satoru Gojo.

His non-Gojo-ness was exactly what prompted Geto to ask the man at the train station for his number. Shota was short, burly, square-faced, and serious. Geto had only clocked the man’s interest by the overly long looks he’d shot him.

At least I'm good at reading people…

“Hey, you should bring her back here,” Gojo said – pulling Geto’s attention back to the present. “We can watch that new horror movie. Human Earthworm.”

…unlike my oblivious best friend.

“Are you seriously asking to be the third wheel on my date?”

Gojo’s face was upside down - his head practically hanging off the end of Geto’s bed. The odd angle must have been what made Gojo’s smile look off.

“You worried she’ll be more interested in your hot roommate?”

Geto shot him an unamused look.

“I don’t know why anyone agrees to sleep with you,” Geto lied. “Your head’s so big, it seems like a crush risk.”

“They can tell I’m killer in bed,” Gojo smirked. “The risk is worth the reward.”

Geto turned away and pulled at the shirt he was wearing. He didn’t totally love it, but he also didn’t care as much as he should about impressing Shota.

It wasn’t as if Geto was about to fall in love with this train station stranger, but if he at least went through the motions, maybe his brain would get with the program and start considering non-Satoru people as potential romantic interests.

“But, seriously, Suguru,” Gojo said as he folded his hands under his head – making the hem of his shirt ride up. “What’s up with this date? I thought you weren’t into that sort of thing.”

Geto’s eyes drew immediately to the sliver of skin above the waistband of Gojo’s slim-fit black joggers. 

The peek of skin couldn’t have been more than an inch wide, but Geto could see twin ridges of definition. The visual set Geto’s mind racing, thinking about the rest of Gojo’s skin.

Damn him for having a nice body.

“I’m trying to make myself get into it,” Geto said, wholly distracted by seeing Gojo’s abs and trying to not let his body get worked up, as if he were still a horny highschooler.

“Ohhh,” Gojo replied, his tone brightening. “I get it.”

Geto’s stomach flopped over as Satoru sprang up.

Did I just out myself?

“What do you get?”

“Nothing,” Geto said with a toothy grin that implied otherwise. “But - just so you know - I like you the way you are, Suguru.”

The idiot part of Geto’s heart – i.e., the whole of it – thumped hopefully.

“If you don’t want to date anyone, don’t date anyone,” Gojo added, cheerily. “I won’t let anyone talk shit about my best friend. I mean, who cares if you’re a virgin?”

Geto’s idiot heart plopped down into his stomach.

Gojo thought he was a crotchety prude who’d rather spend his whole life celibate than have any fun, and he still definitely had Geto squarely in the friend zone.

Obviously you’re in the friendzone, you idiot. He’s straight.

(Complete fic on AO3)

[sugurusladyknightt]

➺ suguru x gn!reader

rustling bedsheets. 24:32. cold, dark, winter, sunday night. the home was quite, it hardly felt like your home. you're alone, and your restless, tossing and turning in the heap of blankets covering you head. and he's late to come home. you've brushed your teeth 5 times tonight and had to redo your skincare more than you'd care to admit from how many times you've splashed cold water on your face.

now you turn in your bed again pulling the blankets closer to your body and curling into yourself. the blankets hug your body tightly like a second skin, fulfilling the same purpose as the thick fur coats of little woodland animals this time of year.

it's not even that late, you think as you check your phone, doing your best to not let the blankets fall off your body, only 24:33. why the fuck is the clock moving so slow. and if your being completely honest with yourself it was none of your business that he was running late. whether he'll come back home to you or not. if he's hurt. you don't care what is keeping him. who. what if he was with someone else.

images of him, your dearest friend, your dearest suguru, with another, flashing behind your eyes. his sharp violet eyes focused on someone else. their hands tangling the inky hair he takes such good care of. suguru wouldn't let anyone touch his hair. especially not some random stranger at that. though he let you braid it once, that means something. ...right?

what if he's touching them. the way you wish he would you. ever so gently, the same way he handles nearly all things — the way his hands should be handling you. his perfect form sitting on someone else's couch, or floor, or bed, or standing against some stupid wall that you could only wish would topple over and crush them both. soft lips that somehow never seem to dry, brushing and pressing with the lips of another. his laboured breathes and pretty smiles and his perfect soft laughter after bumping teeth or foreheads or whatever and suddenly your sat straight up, back stiff, hair in a mess and eyes blown out. you see the imaginary scenes of your beloved and other playing behind your eyes like a horrible movie that only seems to become a clearer memory the more you wish to forget it.

now you're getting out of bed, and your pacing. anxiously. biting at your fingertips and nails. nervous habit you can't seem to shake. he's seen you do it, he's always gently pull your hand away and pull it closer to himself to assess the damage. scolding you softly with a furrow between his brows and the furry of a livid hamster. that's how it came off. you wonder if he can tell how badly you wanted to tuck the stray hair behind his ear.

continuing to pace the expanse of your room. back and forth. and back and forth. and back and forth. it has done little to help ease your nerves. being this worked up over this makes no sense, and yet here you are. there was no obligation for him yo tell you what was holding him up. and no obligation for you to feel this way. how stupid.

his room is across the hall, you would probably smell the faint smell of him if you walk passed it. it was neat, though you don't spend much time there. it's his scared space, you never wanna come off as an intruder.

(to him your presence is the most welcome if intrusions, one he's seek out himself if he hadn't had the same juvenile worries he didn't know you two share)

softly you open your door, as if there was some there who'll hear you. as if you were worried of being caught doing the wrong thing. you start off slow, pacing back and forth in hall with soft steps, you wanna tell yourself you pace doesn't slow when you walk past his room. not knowing whether it's alright to be hoping for him to magically appear and ease your worries. to smooth you to sleep

your doing your best to try manage the thoughts in your head, the softness of your steps, and listening for the door at the stairs trying to hear if he's there. and no you haven't run up to the window when you hear the smallest disruption from the silence (that is, ignoring the pounding of your heart) to see if that was his bike or just... a fucking bird???

worried is how you feel. worried and anxious and helpless and scared and insane. he's good. he's too good and you know that. he's so incredible good at helping with preventing these feelings from rousing, as if the presence and company of him alone was safety and comfort incarnate. if peace were a person.

like the sun had managed to disguise itself as the moon and been doomed to live the life of a human on earth, doing his very best to fit it in, though it remains incredibly clear he's too good for all of this. too good for all of you.

his presence felt like then sun on your skin. warm, gentle, comforting, at times you long for the touch to be searing hot. you know it would be comforting all the same. divinity and he went hand in hand in your eyes. being a human incarnation of the sun didn't seem like such a faraway concept if the one in question suguru.

your still at the window, now just paying less attention now to the initial goal of being on the look out for his bike, instead taking up overthinking his uncharacteristic tardiness and questions of his divinity (how fun is that!)

the overwhelming noise from your racing thoughts makes it feel like it's much less quite than it is. then you hear it. the click of your front door opening.

well shit.

you wait. only a moment. everything slows but your hearts racing. suguru? or someone else? you hear who ever it is take a step, then two. you confirm, it's him.

well shit again.

panic if a different sort rises up your throat. it's suguru. you know it is. but she shouldn't know you worried. or that you up at this hour. or that you think he's really the sun in disguise. you've spoken to him about how you would have to get up earlier than usual in the coming weeks because of an unfortunate shift in you schedule. he'd be upset your losing sleep waiting up for him (simultaneously elated that you'd wait up for him to return to you safely. he always will. but that isn't your business to know.)

walking as quickly and quietly as you can you make it to your room, gently closing the door behind you and slipping back under your sheets. exhale. trying to slow your strangely rapid breathes, and an odd sting in your left knee. your cheeks feel hot, but your finding yourself a little smug about how graceful your unplanned but incredibly executed escape had been. eyes closed. breath slows. pretending to be asleep.

heh, you are just wayy too good.

____

suguru steps into your shared home. deep breathe, it feels like the first time he's gotten to breathe all day. it's slow, he wants to savour it, coming home. coming in to you.

his usually sharp and concentrated violet eyes feel droopy and tired. he's thirsty, and frightfully, his lips are dry. the consequences of being dehydrated he guesses, making a conscious effort to make sure he doesn't lick them. that'll only make it worse in the long run. he makes a mental note: never forget your lip products, dry lips will make your day all that much worse. and adds it to the ever growing list of things he demands he remembers everyday

broad shoulders slumped, his body feels too heavy for him or carry right now. it's dark, the lights are all out. quite too. your probably asleep. he thinks back to what you had told him about a sudden shift in you schedule as he bends down to remove his shoes.

some of his hair falling out of its careful arrangement and draping over his shoulders. it's come loose at some point and he hadn't bothered him enough to be adjusting it.

he wants to rest. you said that you'd be doing a lot more far too early in the morning, and so you'd need to be in bed earlier than usual. that's what he thought, until rushed, heavy steps were heard?

a quizzical expression finds its way to his face, and a moment later, after successfully removing one shoe, he straightens his body. he can tell it's you. those are your steps. then a thud. you fell. the first instinct is to check that your alright, but before it really registered, you make a quick recovery and dash to your room slamming the door in a hurry.

now hold on now. feeling a mixture of what the fuck and amusement bubbles up his throat.

what the fuck because aren't you supposed to be asleep?? you'd have to be up in a few hours time. you'll be exhausted. on the other hand he wanted to burst out laughing because you must've been trying to be subtle, to run across the upper floor of the house you shared unnoticed. we're you waiting for him? the thought makes his cheeks warm, his heart skip a beat, and a weird butterfly sensation to erupt in his stomach.

it's dead quite now, so he removes his other shoe, and places them both down. one next to the other. suguru is then pulling out one of the shoes from the pair he knows your planning on wearing tomorrow. he looks for the matching pair, fishes it out, and places the pair of them together next to his. he'd do anything really if it meant convince you, fishing out the missing shoe from the unexplored and incredibly unorganized coat closet you share.

you won't have to worry about not finding one of them in your morning rush tomorrow. he'll be asleep then, but still, suguru wants to be a part of your day. to be helpful to you even though you don't know it. he hangs his jacket, next to yours again. that's where it's supposed to be.

making a beeline for the kitchen and quickly grabbing a glass of water, he makes his way up the stairs. he's making his way to you.

your tucked away in bed trying. back under your blankets body curled in on itself. trying to listen for what he's doing. you feel giddy. when you hear soft steps coming up the stairs.

okok!! show time.

you've hyped yourself for your life's best performance of... fake sleeping!!! deep breathe and bam, you're in character. eyes closed breathing slowed, hair adjusted, perfect. he knocks at the door, suppressing your wide giddy smile, he's got a smile on too, though you can't see it.

suguru opens the door ever so slightly and gently calls out to you. god his voice, low and ever so soft, pronouncing your name is what you'd go to war for. anything really would be too little of an ask in comparison to hearing him call out to you oh so sweetly again and again. you wanna hear that voice for the rest of your life.

when you don't respond, he takes a moment to contemplate his decision and weighing his options (a very gruelling task btw) and walks in to your scared space. suguru sits at the edge of your bed, careful not to disturb your very convincing performance.

it's not hard to keep your eyes closed. you can see him anyway. the way his dark hair is framing his face, providing the perfect contrast to make his violet eyes stand out more than they do, the way he's sitting, the soft and sharp lines that make up his face and neck. his steps sounded tired. you wish you would stop the charade and ask if he'd allow you to help him bathe, you'd wash his hair. dry it for him, remembering to put in all the products he loves to use (it's an arm workout i tell you) and braid it afterwards too.

he looks at you, you usually feel it when he does. and you wonder if it's common for people blush while sleeping. you wonder if he'll buy it. he doesn't. but he says nothing and so neither do you and continue on with your charade. he moves to sit on the ground next to your bed, and the absence of him is felt immediately. facing the wall you've decorated with paintings and posters, suguru wonders the inspiration behind them, the thoughtfully painted landscapes. he notices quite a few of them featuring the sun at various times of day, and the details carefully painted on what is usually simply done in a soild color. isn't the sun often only a supporting element in a painting? something in the background meant to accentuate the key elements?

i wanna ask about that sometime. why the sun?

shifting in you pretend sleep, you curl into the space he was just occupying. bringing yourself closer to him. now the back of his head only a breathe away from the kiss you desperately wish to blow him. he drinks from the glass he'd brought up with him and he starts speaking in that lovely voice of his.

he tells you all about his day and he doesn't spare any detail. he tells you about the dry lips he's had to deal with all day, satorus mischievous antics, the stray cat that reminded him of the white haired man, and one that reminded him of you. it's hard not to let out a chuckle at his awful misfortunes (the dry lip blues).

he speaks and speaks and it lulls you to sleep, you swear it works better than any lullaby could. for a moment you're thinking of him singing one to you, but before you get to finish the thought you're drifting off into a pleasant sleep.

feeling the weight of the day slowly leave his slumped shoulders. suguru is reluctant to leave your side. he doesn't wanna be without you, so he keeps your company and speaks until his words begin to slur together and the stories start to repeat. that night, suguru falls into a comfortable sleep, best he'd had in a while, on the floor next to your bed. feeling that he's home now.

____

when you awake the next morning, the alarms on your phone go off and your quick to shut it off. checking to see that you haven't woken him up. he slept there. you'd wished for it, but worried for his comfort. grabbing your blanket to cover him with, and trying to adjust him so he's more comfortable. he looks so pretty in his sleep. so at peace. a sight for sore eyes, first thing in the morning too. blessed is how it feels to know him.

taking a moment to admire him, you make a silent prayer he feels this way more often, and your off to be getting ready. making your way down the stairs, you check the time on your phone to see you're all good on time, you'd woken up quite tired, but felt the exhaustion leave your body at the sight of him sleeping soundly.

you make yourself breakfast, leaving a note for suguru on the counter with some fresh cut fruit and tea. he doesn't sleep in often, even in days he'd had a late night so your hoping his tea isn't cold when he gets to it, that it wraps him in a warm hug he'll feel from the inside out. you can only hope it gets him to think about you in all the ways you do him.

all you've got left to do is check to see that you have everything you need, keys, phone, your lip products (you've been warned of the grievances that come with dry lips), and all your other essentials before slipping on your shoes, grabbing your jacket from next to sugurus and making you way out the door. although, you don't quite remember that you've found your other shoe, or that you've put them there at all.

divider by @saradika-graphics

[friendlyneighbourhoodlizard]

today i have been blessed with divine knowledge from the gods

liiiiike hear me out

wdym the deepest connection you ever had was with your teenage "best friend" with whom you seemingly shared all your ideals and you understood eachother on such a profound level that left you scarred for the rest of your life? and he turned out to be an extremist who wanted to subdue the nonmagical portion of society for the supposed greater good? and you ended up having to fight him because you were the only person who could match his strength and stop him? AND THEN you never got over any of it and proceeded to live with the burden of being the strongest, shut off from everyone else because noone could ever understand you the way he did??

go on, tell me i‘m wrong, but deep down you‘ll know i‘m not

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

roommate!sugu drabble is simmering slowly >:33 gonna post it later today !!!! he’s . a loverboy. a loserboy.

[mayajadewrites]

roommates to lovers–friends to lovers–slow burn

suguru geto x fem reader

synopsis: Suguru Geto is your best friend and roommate. After a year of living together, there have been more than one opportunity to throw away your friendship. The question is, would you get lucky as fall in love for the rest of your days?

ao3

🎧🌙🧺📖🕯️🧸🤍

please comment and let me know what you think, i'm very excited about this series 🤍

"Suguru, how does it taste?" You twist your fork into the pasta noodles, hovering the fork over your mouth.

"Maybe if you let me try it, I can give you an answer." Your roommate, Suguru Geto, said flatly. You've been living together for over a year now since you both got "adult jobs" you're able to afford the luxuries of life. Like an apartment and food.

"I've given you plenty of time.” You tap your index finger impatiently on the table. You refused to take the first bite, it always had to be Suguru. It's an unspoken rule.

Suguru rolled his eyes, taking a forkful of pasta and slipping it into his mouth. As he chewed, he nodded in approval. "It's great as always."

You smile to yourself, taking a bite of your pasta. You tried a new recipe today, making your own homemade sauce. Suguru is always down to be your guinea pig when it comes to new recipes. The only reason he doesn't forget to to eat is because of you.

"So, any plans for your birthday?" You ask innocently, when in reality you already planned a surprise party for Suguru at your apartment. You already invited his friends: Gojo, Nanami, Shoko, and Haibara. Suguru didn't have many friends. Unlike his best friend, Satoru Gojo, he is quiet and well spoken. He doesn't think rashly, or act on impulse. Everything Suguru Geto does is well thought out, almost calculated.

"Nope." He put a 'pop' sound at the end of the word. "I plan on staying in and reading the new book I just picked up."

"Ooooh." You're interested in what the book is about. One thing you and Suguru have in common is your love for reading. Being able to escape your reality and dive into another one is a feeling unlike any other.

"It's a thriller, the woman at the bookstore recommended it to me." Suguru sipped his water, taking his last bite of pasta.

"She gives you recommendations now?" You asked, almost in an accusatory way. You switched your tone when you noticed the attitude flying off your tongue. "She's never said 2 words to me."

"Yeah, we got talking the other day when I was in there." He got up to put his dishes in the sink, grabbing your bowl to go with it. "She looked like she needed someone to talk to."

I bet she likes him. You thought to yourself. Suguru hasn't brought any women back to your apartment in a few months, nor has he talked about any women he's interested in. Go figure he would meet one at a bookstore. How... romantic.

You wiped your hands on your apron, getting any residue off your fingertips. You heard Suguru turn on the sink behind you, starting to wash the dishes.

If you cooked, Suguru cleaned. Always.

"Suguru, can you help me with this?" You try to untie your apron, noticing you made a knot.

"Sure." He turned off the water, careful not to waste it. He made sure to dry his hands before his fingertips grazed your shoulder, sending goosebumps across your skin. "Damn, you really made a knot." He pried at the knot, finally getting leeway. His left hand stayed on your shoulder as he pulled one of the ties, letting the front of the apron fall. Suguru reached for the other knot near your waist.

"I can get it." You start messing with the knot.

"Okay miss independent." Suguru stayed close behind you as you struggled with the ties. His eyes could've burned a hole in your neck.

You sighed, admitting defeat. "Fine." Your hands fall to your sides.

"That's what I thought." Suguru's voice was soft as he untied the knot at your waist.

You and Suguru have had a handful of "almosts" together. Almost getting too close. Almost tasting him.

You've both chose to forget every spark between you, for better or for worse.

"For the record, you can still call me miss independent. It has a ring to it." You slipped off your apron, hanging it up on the hook adjacent to the refrigerator.

"Yeah, yeah." Surugu turned around to start the dishes again. You stared at the back of him for a moment, his long black locks cascading past his shoulders, half of the volume of his hair up in a bun. His shoulders are wide as you scan down his body, the muscles of his biceps moving to wash the bowl you were just eating out of.

You snap yourself out of whatever trance you're in, grabbing your lighter to light your "marshmallow fireside" candle. You and Suguru's place was always cozy and clean, almost like the two of you.

It feels like home.

You heard the water turn off, letting you know that Suguru is done with the dishes. "Mm, I love marshmallow." You heard him breathe in through his nose, taking in the sweet marshmallow scent.

"I know, I got this candle for you for Christmas, remember?" You grabbed a blanket from the rattan basket in the corner, snuggling yourself on the couch.

"Speaking of marshmallow." Suguru opened the freezer, grabbing a pint of ice cream that read 'Campfire S'mores'. "I grabbed this after the bookstore. Looked like something you would like."

"You mean we, you know you're a sucker for s'mores."

Suguru smiled as he grabbed two spoons, bringing the pint to the couch. He sat next to you on the couch, offering a spoon to you.

"Thanks, Sugu." You smile, draping the blanket over his lower half.

You spend the rest of the night watching trash TV and eating ice cream with your best friend.